Why He Does
by chanvrerie
Summary: They've had this conversation before.


They were sitting on the couch. She's typing away at her laptop, and he has his eyes glued to the news playing loudly on the TV screen- a picture of him in a red and gold suit.

"Why do you do it?" It's a conversation they've had frequently, and one, they both know, they'll continue to have until the day they die. He doesn't even have to ask what she means. He lowers the volume of the TV speakers and turns to face her, watching the light catch her fiery hair as she shifts to a more comfortable position.

"Pepper, I don't do it for the fame or... or the glory... or-"

"I didn't ask why you don't do it," she interrupts sharply, setting aside her laptop and meeting his gaze challengingly.

He chokes back a small laugh- nothing about the situation is particularly funny- and he forces himself to nod. "Right," he continues. "I've said it before. I do it because I believe in it. Pepper, I'm just fighting to fix what I have totally, completely, utterly screwed up before."

"But you could get killed!" It's not the first time she's said that. For that matter, _no_ part of this conversation is happening for the first time. It just usually takes her longer to get to that point of emotional impatience. Tony runs a hand through his thick hair and takes a deep breath. He tries to ignore the fluttering in his stomach, the acing shoulder from the mission that's probably the reason she's so worked up in the first place, the nagging part of him that's just dying to pry and question until she breaks down and tells him exactly why she's so worried about his death- why she feels it will affect her so much she has to keep asking him for his reasons. He bends over for a minute, resting his head in his hands. The conversation has just turned serious; he's not really sure why, but he can feel it. The sudden tension in the room, her gaze boring into the back of his head.

He pulls his shoulders back up, looks at Pepper again, and she's struck by how old his eyes suddenly look. For a moment, trapped here in his workshop, she sees... Tony. Not a playboy. Not one of the world's greatest minds. Not this "Iron Man" everyone is suddenly so obsessed about. Just _Tony_. She tries to ignore the feeling of warmth welling up inside her, the tugging at her heart in response to the pain in his eyes. It takes her a minute to realize he's speaking again. She snaps out of her drowning thoughts and shifts her attention back to his hoarse words.

"I could. But I've put others in harm's way making these weapons. I've _killed_ by making these weapons, Pepper. If I get hit by one or two in the process of trying to destroy them, it's only fair, right? And I have to protect the people I lo- the, you know." His eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, and Pepper can't deny that he looks indescribably handsome in the warm afternoon sun shining through the small workshop window. "You keep asking me like you don't already know the answer, Pep. I just... You know why I'm doing this!" He can't help it anymore. He stands up and paces for a few minutes. He's not angry, not impatient. She knows. She can see it in his eyes. He's scared. He pauses mid-step, wanders back to the couch, takes her hands in his, and tries to pretend that he doesn't feel her shiver, doesn't notice the goose bumps drifting up and down his own arm. "You know why I'm doing this. Pepper..." He watches as she squeezes her eyes shut and looks down.

"Don't," she whispers.

"Don't?" She looks up then, and he's shocked to see tears spilling out of the corners of her eyes.

"That look. Don't give me that look, Tony." Tears are streaming freely down her cheeks now and his hands itch to take her in his arms and wipe them away. He settles instead for gripping her hands more tightly and pulling her towards him. She resists, and he gives in, relaxing his arms, but keeping her hands firmly in his.

"I just- I worry about you. I know you know that." There's a small pause and they sit and blink at each other silently. He watches warily as Pepper's gaze trails down to his chest, lingering on the glowing circle that keeps him alive. He's struggling to find a smart remark about how she can't resist looking at his body to lighten the uncomfortable situation when suddenly, Pepper bolts off the couch, ripping her hands away from his, and completely banishing the thought of making any kind of joke out of his mind. "I don't want to be around when you kill yourself!" Her eyes are flashing now, and Tony sees her body tense just as he feels panic turn his stomach. He doesn't even register the pain in his knees both from the mission and his awkward crouching position on the floor in front of her.

"Don't leave," he whispers painfully, swallowing hard.

"I know, I know... I'm all you've got and all that." Pepper waves her hands flippantly, turning on her heels so her back is toward him. Tony nods, waiting patiently. He hears her take a long, deep breath, and she turns back to him slowly. "Tony... you could get seriously hurt. You could-"

"I know," he responds, tilting his head to one side, trying to gauge her reaction. He stands up slowly and moves to stand in front of her. "I know." He takes her hands in his again and watches as she bites down on her lower lip like he knows she does when she runs out of things to say.

He looks deep into her eyes, and, all of a sudden, he wants to kiss her. He doesn't know why; he just does. Wants to take her in his arms and comfort her. Wants to tell her that everything's going to be fine, even it if it isn't.

And he wants to so badly, but he tells himself he can't. He tells himself it's because she'll leave. He tells himself it's because his work life can't bear to lose her. He tells himself he feels nothing when she smiles at him when he comes home from his missions and her red-rimmed eyes tell the stories of her worry. He tells himself he's not being a coward. Not breaking his own heart. He tells himself he's protecting her. He doesn't love her. He tells himself he only keeps her there because she's one hell of a PA. He tells himself that if she leaves, it won't kill him. He tells himself he's not lying.

So he lets go of her hands and pretends that he doesn't stumble when he moves away.

"Pepper..." His voice breaks and so does her heart.

She wants to kiss him. She doesn't know why; she just does. Wants to take him in her arms and just hold him. Wants to tell him that she'll never leave him, that she'll always be there, no matter what.

And she wants to so badly, but she tells herself she can't. She tells herself it's because he's a total playboy and she doesn't want to be just another notch in his belt. She tells herself that he'd probably kick her out of the house and she'd end up in the unemployment office. She tells herself that she feels nothing when his amber eyes stare at her with such intensity she can practically feel a hole burning in her heart. She tells herself he's just her boss. Just the person she works for and answers to. She tells herself she's freeing him from worrying about her. She doesn't love him. She tells herself the only reason she can't seem to quit this crazy job is because it's well-paid, and she hates job-hunting. She tells herself that if he shuts her out, it won't kill her. She tells herself she's not lying.

So she lets him release her hands and move backwards.

"I do it because it's the right thing to do." His un-Tony-like demeanor is back as he squares his shoulders, nods to her, and heads for the stairs.

They both know that while that's partly true, there's another answer.

For him it's "I do it for you."

For her... she doesn't know why he does it. Only that he does.


End file.
